Getting out of the cab, Mohinder looked up at the club with a sense of slight trepidation now that they were here. He didn't feel his age, but he did feel older than the young and mostly buzzing drunk crowd.

He also didn't share Sylar's total confidence that there was no way that they'd be turned away because they were too good looking a pair to be knocked back. But he just looked to the other man, nodded and smiled slightly.

1. I considered it a toy. It was 1981, and I was too young to appreciate that the microscope was expensive and not a toy. I was playing at being a scientist and was adjusting the focus upwards exactly how you should never do. I broke the slide, and the lens and my father’s trust to let me play in his office.

2. When I was eleven, my cousin broke his birthday present. Knowing his mother would be furious after he was told to be careful, he blamed me. I took the punishment, my cousin got a new present. He came clean about it two days later however.

3. I was eighteen and I had to buy a present for a young cousin back in India. Apparently, there is a world of difference between different types of Barbie. For the life of me, I can’t work out what though, the outfits never last more than ten minutes on the doll and once their hair is dyed bright green and cut short, one Barbie is much like another.

4. She didn’t appreciate that I had been looking at locking leather cuffs and was insulted that I wanted to tie her down. I was never brave enough or silly enough to tell her I didn’t want her tied down.

5. For a definition of trouble and toy... My gun has caused me a world of trouble of many types.

They walked to the cafe hand in hand, Mohinder’s fingers stroking Gabriel’s hand and reassuring him softly that everything would be fine.

At the doorway, they kissed softly and Mohinder stepped inside, fingers stroking his rings as he looked around.

“Mohinder!”

He turned to the call and paused, found himself caught in a time warp.

( Long narrative. )

It was Boxing Day. They had enough food that neither of them had to cook or order take out for another three days, they hadn't actually put on real clothes in over twenty four hours and life was, all in all, completely relaxed and lazy.

Which ended when Mohinder's phone rang. He didn't recognise the number listed, so it was with a very cautious glance around that he picked up the phone and softly said, "Hello?"

"Mohinder? Is that you?"

Something dimly rang in Mohinder's mind. he knew this voice. "Who is this?"

( Read more... )

Christmas. It was still something... new. Strange. Uncomfortable, in a sense, because it wasn't his traditions and was something he had always avoided by returning to the safety of India when the holiday reared its head.

It was familiar. But being a part of it still felt strange. Even now, sitting on the couch, kitten on the arm of the chair rumbling, lizard perched up behind him, glass of eggnog in his hand and watching the tree with the lights off and candles lit on the coffee table.

Christmas. Well, the eve thereof. Molly's presents had been sent to her, with a card for Matt and a letter for Molly. Another apology for another holiday it wasn't safe for him to share with her.

He took a slow sip.

He had told the other two to work out how they wanted to handle Christmas. Together, one in the evening, one the next day, splitting up the day itself, he expected they'd be able to at least agree on that.

He took another sip, fingers stroking through the kitten's fur.

Mohinder had learned to bypass the entire problem of keeping hands from wandering in the shower by going to shower in the other bathroom still, preferably while his lover was still asleep.

He was dressed and wandering through the house by seven thirty, absently drying his hair while he got breakfast for the animals and then started for himself and whoever chose to join him at the table.

Hiding from the light


( AU. )

Mohinder sat on the couch, shortlisting beds between loading genomes and emailing Mira, trying to convince her to give him access to her database, just for a few hours.

He leaned back, cracking his neck and pushing his glasses up on top of his head to look for Gabriel. "Love... Have you ever thought about putting a mark on me?"

By the time that Sylar arrived, it was all already over.

( Season three spoilers. Character death. )

When the alarm went off at ten, Mohinder had extricated himself from Sylar and made his way inside to turn it off. He came back to make sure the other man was still asleep, tucking him in and rewarded himself for getting up by going to have a nice, long shower.

The shower did help with the aches (some of them) so he made an early lunch and came outside to eat it, stirring Sylar to eat some before sending him in for a shower and giving Gabriel a bit of time since he himself had had a thorough monopoly on the last twenty four hours.

They had news to share with Gabriel.

Mohinder waited in the main room, adjusting the collar of the uniform he’d been coerced into getting for Halloween. Molly had declared it the funniest thing ever to have Mohinder dress as a cop for Halloween, with the plan to have Matt as a doctor had work not needed extra men on the ground tonight.

( Set back pre season 2. )


Word count: 300
Binding on no muses named.

I would never tell Gabriel I had come here, when the snows were falling and the stones stood like ancient monuments among winding paths swept clean by the feet that walked them.

She stood among the rows, afforded nothing but what her estate could buy her, remembrance from her church and a stone that would last beyond the memories of people around her. I had brought no flower with me, it seemed unfitting to bring a decapitated plant to the mother of a man who made decapitation his signature.

I crouched down and swept the snow away, to have something to speak to if not a face. “We never met.”

( Cut for length )

Word count: 390.

It had taken an awful lot of thinking and time alone pondering to reach the conclusions that he had.

Mohinder was tired. Mentally, he was exhausted, staying strong and in control for Gabriel and keeping the leach tight on Sylar over the last few days while he had calmed down off the high of what he had done... and the week and a half before that while they prepared.

He set an alarm on his mobile and took it with him to Sylar's room, knocking briefly before walking in. "Sylar?"

True to his word, Sylar was gone in the morning when Mohinder got up.

( Cut for graphic descriptions of violence. )

Mohinder didn’t have superpowers. He couldn’t walk through walls, or move things with his mind, or teleport through time and space.

Mohinder was, however, highly intelligent, well educated and an obsessive man when he set his mind to a task, like he was at the moment.

( Adult beyond. )

The headline sickened him. Manhattan Rapist Strikes Again.

He browsed the article, train wreck syndrome, he had to know the details. Another girl, just sixteen, snatched walking home from school. Hit shocked him much detail American papers would go in to, a drama craving society demanding every detail of horror to satisfy their voyeuristic needs.

He didn't what made him angrier, the violation and violence inflicted on the poor girl or the way the media seized on it to whip public hysteria and interest.

"It's sickening," he commented to his room mate. "This is the fifth girl."

Gabriel?

I have a question for you. Do you mind?

Mohinder sat up in bed.

Sylar slumbered on peacefully, worn out from the things Mohinder had insisted needing doing around the apartment that he hadn't been able to do. It had been a double edged sword, he did want it all done, but he really just wanted to wear his lover out so he would sleep peacefully, but not like the dead.

He slipped from bed and wandered back to his own room, sorting through items and plucking out choices ones before returning to bed again. A few moments were spent settling Sylar back to sleep, humming softly and stroking along his chest until he stopped stirring once again.

Then he slowly pushed his arms up, tying his wrists together with the silk rope and then up and around the headboard, leaving enough slack that he could move his lover around. He put his kit aside, half under a pillow and straddled Sylar's stomach with a small, wicked smile.

"Sylar..." He purred his name, leaning down to whisper it near his ear. "Sylar..."

Click, as the safety was snapped off while the gun was trailed down his face.

While it may not have been clear to anyone else, it was very clear to Mohinder. Sylar was reaching the end of his rope and it was now a matter of when he was going to snap, not if.

( Narrative. Comments may get disturbing, adult, and violent. The usual. )